


Sharpening Their Cleavers And Their Knives

by skyline



Series: Monsterverse [2]
Category: Big Time Rush
Genre: BTHalloween, Frankenstein - Freeform, Halloween, M/M, Smut, Vampires, Werewolves, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-31
Updated: 2011-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-06 06:35:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/415864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyline/pseuds/skyline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan gets horny and starts the zombie apocalypse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sharpening Their Cleavers And Their Knives

**Author's Note:**

> Based entirely off BTHalloween, this is a considerably less serious sequel.

“I bit someone,” Logan says a tad guiltily, the second he walks in the door.  
  
Kendall looks up from his orange juice. “What do you mean you bit someone?”  
  
“I mean I _bit_ someone.” Logan clicks his teeth together so that the sound echoes throughout the apartment.  
  
“Why?”  
  
There are a lot of different reasons to bite a person. Kendall knows. There’s play-biting and biting in the heat of passion and affectionate nips that mean all sorts of things.  
  
“I was hungry.” Logan shrugs.  
  
And then there’s that.  
  
Kendall can’t actually judge. In Minnesota, he spent more than one night with a deer jugular hot and fresh in his mouth.  
  
There aren’t any deer in the middle of Los Angeles. He’s found a coyote or two, but Kendall’s inner Wolf calls them _little brother_ and has zero compulsions towards eating them.  
  
There was a mountain lion, once, but that mostly involved a lot of running. Cougars are big, man.  
  
“Okay. Who did you bite?” If Logan’s skin wasn’t blue, Kendall would swear he’s blushing. As it is, the mottled purple of his cheekbones darkens, just a little.  
  
“Guitar Dude.”  
  
“You got hungry for unwashed stoner? What kind of craving is that? Are you pregnant?”  
  
“I was kind of…in the middle of. Um. Sitting on his lap. Maybe?” Logan attempts to look preoccupied by a stray bit of lint on his sweater vest.  
“That’s really not important.”  
  
Kendall takes a second to process. He takes another second to come to the decision he doesn’t _want_ to process. “Alright. So what’s the problem? Guitar Dude isn’t into marking?”  
  
Logan takes a deep breath, sucking air through his teeth. “I didn’t get a chance to ask. He sort of. Um. Died.”  
  
Kendall’s going to need more than a second to process this one.  
  
Hastily, Logan adds, “I mean. He didn’t _die_ , die. He just. Died.”  
  
“Right. So. I don’t know what that means.”  
  
“How about I just show you?”  
  
Kendall chugs down the rest of his orange juice.  
  
“Alright.”  
  
James is in the lobby. Kendall can sense him before he actually spots him. It’s a feeling that makes the hair on the back of his neck stand on end; a prickle in each and every one of his pores. And Kendall knows the second that James spots him, his ears picking up on the hiss of James’s breath; a sharp exhalation.  
  
The war that lives inside of Kendall’s body begins.  
  
 _Kiss him_ , says the Boy. _Eat him_ , says the Wolf. Kendall is always torn between the two.  
  
James is his best friend.  
  
James is a vampire.  
  
Their relationship has been all teeth and claws for a long time now.  
  
Kendall grits his teeth and tells Logan, “Where’s Guitar Dude?”  
  
“I don’t know.” Logan throws up his hands. “He moved.”  
  
“How can he move if he’s dead?”  
  
Logan frowns, his lower lip jutting out, his shoulders slumping. Kendall is getting a bad feeling about this. “Logan. When you say _dead_ , do you by any chance mean… _zombified_?”  
  
Logan abruptly involves himself in a rather intense study of the carpet. “Um. Well.”  
  
“Hey guys,” James says behind Kendall’s shoulder. Kendall stiffens. He has to fight every instinct he has to keep from turning on his friend.  
The Wolf is screaming at him, insisting that he face the threat. His back is exposed, his neck is exposed, and he’s the alpha male here. This is his territory; not the place for dead things.  
  
When Kendall feels fingertips like ice brush over the back of his neck, he growls. He can’t help it.  
  
“Down, boy.” James huffs out a laugh. He repositions his body, moving to stand where Kendall (and the Wolf) can see him, a twitch of his nose letting Kendall know that James is keeping all of his vampiric impulses in check. Kendall wishes James would touch him again. It’s stupid; it’s better not to want him.  
  
When Kendall wants James, all he can see is blood. The way it gathers under his fingernails. How it would taste in his mouth. They tread a line every time they interact; the edge of a knife separates their friendship and their true nature.  
  
It’s exhausting.  
  
The maintenance man shambles by, coveralls torn at the shoulder. James makes a face. “Does Buddha Bob look a little, um, green to you?”  
  
He does. The skin around his eyes has sunken in, taking on a yellow-green pallor, like jaundice. There is a bloody wound the exact size of someone’s mouth on his cheekbone, and already it looks like its festering; oozing pus and black at the edges.  
  
Kendall scowls. “ _Logan_!”  
  
“I didn’t bite _him_ , I swear.”  
  
“Bite? Wait, what’s going on?” James scratches his head, puzzled.  
  
“Logan got hungry.” Kendall glares, because it’s easier right now to focus his ire on Logan.  
  
It’s usually not this hard; trying not to round on James. But tonight’s Halloween, and tomorrow’s a full moon night. The Wolf wants free reign.  
  
James makes a _tsk_ noise, but he doesn’t sound entirely _surprised_.  
  
Kendall wants to ask if this hunger is something that Logan and James have discussed. Logan doesn’t have a Wolf living inside his head.  
He’s a dead thing, like James. He’s easier to talk to without bringing blood or an entire history of mortal enemies into the equation.  
  
Buddha Bob lurches forward, scattering a crowd of teenagers eating fro-yo. They yell out, “Hey, dude!” and “Not cool!”  
  
None of them seem paralyzed with fear about a zombie walking in their midst. Maybe they don’t realize, or maybe they’re just so used to Logan than the impending danger doesn’t exactly register. Either way, they’re all just standing there like an all you can eat flesh-buffet.  
Buddha Bob nearly takes out one boy before his attention is distracted by a pigeon.   
  
James wrinkles his nose. “You couldn’t just eat a burger?”  
  
“Sorry,” Logan squeaks.  
  
“Are you?” James narrows his eyes. “You’ve got skin in your teeth, dude.”  
  
“You’ve got blood on your lips,” Logan counters.  
  
James looks offended. He wipes his mouth and says, “At least I’m not _breeding_. Um. Guys?”  
  
“What?” Logan snaps. A scream of outrage fills the air.  
  
“I think Buddha Bob just bit one of the Jennifers.”  
  
Kendall groans. Out the corner of his eye he spots two of Guitar Dude’s groupies. One of them has blood smeared across his mouth. “Okay, James. Take Logan upstairs before he decides he’s _hungry_ again.”  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“What are you going to do?” James asks seriously. He’s watching the girls, who are staggering poolside, making grabby hands at innocent sunbathers. Some of them are laughing, obviously thinking it’s a huge Halloween joke. Others appear to be catching on, and a chorus of shrieks begins to fill the air.  
  
“I’m going to check on Jennifer.” Because that’s what friends do, and as difficult as the Jennifers have made his life, they are still his friends.  
  
James’s eyes darken. He digs his hands into the pockets of his jeans and says, “Be careful.”  
  
“Always am.” Kendall replies. He wants to reach out and squeeze James’s hand. He curls his fingers into his own palm instead, drawing blood.  
  
James can smell it. Kendall can tell. When he walks away, across the lobby, he can feel James’s eyes like heat crawling on his skin.  
  
Jennifer, for her part, does not look super freaked out about being bitten. She’s scrunching her dress in her hands, muttering to herself.  
The expression on her face is less terrified and more furious.  
  
“What’s, uh. What’s going on, Jennifer?”  
  
Her gaze snaps up to Kendall. “What’s going on is that Buddha Bob just went like, _rabid_ on me.”  
  
There is a legitimate scream from one of the poolside cabanas. Kendall winces.  
  
“Oh. Uh. He bit you?”  
  
“Yes!” Jennifer stomps her foot and points to her arm, where the imprint of teeth stands out, stark against her pale skin. “Look at this. I’m going to have to wash psychotic janitor saliva off of my-“  
  
She pauses and sniffs the air.  
  
“Jennifer?” Kendall frowns, trying to remember if he wore deodorant today. He vaguely recalls spritzing on some Cuda, just to annoy James, who hates it when the guys touch his stash.  
  
More sniffing.  
  
Now that Kendall’s up close, he sees that Jennifer doesn’t actually look so good. Kendall shifts from foot to foot, uncomfortable. This is serious business here. The poor girl’s skin is starting to take on this weird purple color, and her skin’s beginning to sag. “Jennifer?”  
  
“You smell weird,” Jennifer breathes, eyes glazing over.  
  
Then it’s like something inside her head just switches off. She pitches forward, and Kendall steels himself for his first confrontation with a brain hungry monster. He’s prepared. He took like, one judo class when he was eight, and Jennifer’s barely a hundred pounds wet.  
  
The confrontation never comes. Zombie Jennifer is about an inch away from sinking her teeth straight into Kendall’s shoulder when she stops. She makes this noise, halfway between a snuffle and a groan. Then she flips her hair and trudges in the opposite direction.  
  
Well. That’s interesting.  
  
“What’s up with her?”  
  
Kendall nearly jumps out of his skin.  
  
Dark hair. Dark eyes. He takes in the girl in front of him, a little confused. “Muffy?”  
  
“Hi.” Her smile dimples.  
  
“Are you here to see James?”  
  
“Yeah, um- why is she looking at me like that?” Kendall glances in the direction Jennifer wandered off in. She’s coming back their way. And drooling.  
  
“We’re, uh, experiencing some technical difficulty.”  
  
“What’s that mean?”  
  
“It means some of our residents are, um. Living impaired right now.”  
  
A kid, barley twelve, goes running by, screaming bloody murder. Buddha Bob stumbles after her, his pace barely more than a shamble.  
Near the pool, one of the Teen CSI kids is in the midst of a scuffle with Guitar Dude’s groupies. The three of them go crashing into the pool.  
Muffy’s eyes narrow. “Did James do this?”  
  
“No!” Kendall exclaims, quick to get it in before Muffy runs off to try to stick something in James.  
  
Muffy is always looking for an excuse to stake him. They have the weirdest relationship around the Palmwoodsylvania.  
  
“Are you sure?”  
  
“One hundred percent certain,” Kendall confirms.  
  
“Oh. Well, how about I walk you back up to your apartment?” She asks sweetly, completely ignoring the chaos brewing around them.  
  
Kendall has a feeling that would be a bad idea. “Well. But. You’re looking for James, right? He’s not up there. He’s- at the studio!”  
  
“Oh.” Muffy’s expression sours. “Then could you tell James I’m here, when you see him? I’m going to go hang by the pool until he gets back.”  
  
Kendall glances at the anarchy going on poolside. He wonders if she’s planning on a nice swim in the midst of all that, or what. “Right.  
Don’t let anyone bite you?”  
  
Muffy twirls her stake and makes a condescending noise that Kendall takes to mean _no problem_. She heads out of the lobby, zombie Jennifer at her heels.  
  
The first thing Kendall does once she’s gone is make a call from the phone at the front desk. He figures that if anyone will know anything about Logan being all bitey, it will be Dr. Rocquenstein. They’ve had the week off from recording, it being Halloween and all, but Gustavo is almost always at the office.  
  
Kendall waits patiently while the phone rings, trying hard to ignore the cacophony of rising screams. He hears a click.  
  
“Dr. Rocquenstein-“ Kendall starts.  
  
“Hello,” an automated, tinny female voice says, “You have reached the offices of Dr. Rocquenstein. Unfortunately, no one is en premises at the moment because-“  
  
The voice turns into Gustavo’s. “-We’re partying it up in Cabo, oh yeah.”  
  
Kendall thinks he hears Kelly in the background, yelling, “Suck it, Griffin.”  
  
Then the message reverts to the machinated voice. “So please leave your kind words, and we will try to return your call with as much promptness and pleasure as we can afford.”  
  
“Unless you’re a dog,” Gustavo’s voice tacks onto the end of the message.  
  
Kendall’s scowl deepens, and he hangs up the phone. Gustavo and Kelly are obviously going to be no help at all. A zombie captures a wannabe popstar to his left, and okay, Kendall feels a bit bad. Technically speaking, this is his fault. He’s the one who made Dr.  
Rocquenstein reanimate Logan and Carlos.  
  
He watches the life drain from the poor, young popstar’s eyes and feels…nothing. The thing is, Kendall doesn’t even mind that he’s apparently about to combat the apocalypse. All of this? Is more than worth it to have Logan and Carlos back in his life.  
  
Even if Logan apparently has a nasty little biting problem.  
  
Kendall marches into 2J five minutes later and announces to James, Logan, and Carlos, “Good news. Apparently zombies don’t eat werewolves.”  
  
“Duh,” Logan says from the couch, where he is pounding James at a video game. “You smell like a wet animal.”  
  
“Word,” James says, eyes glued to the TV screen. He gives Logan a halfhearted fist bump before yelping, “Stop shooting me in the head!”  
  
“That’s the point of the game.”  
  
“I can’t believe you just shot me to save her. Bros before pixilated hoes, dude.”  
  
Kendall sighs. “Do zombies eat vampires?”  
  
“Okay, one, I haven’t eaten anyone. I _nibbled_. And two, probably not. They’re already dead, aren’t they?”  
  
“What about Carlos? Is anyone going to try to eat him?”  
  
Carlos makes a noise from his hovel in the swirly slide. Kendall thinks about climbing up there to hide out with him until the apocalypse is over.  
  
It’s not a very leaderly thing to do. He’s still tempted.  
  
“Eh. He smells like cookies. On the other hand, he’s green. Like vegetables.” Logan frowns. “Vegetables are gross.” He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s a toss up.”  
  
“Cookies, really?”  
  
“Why, what does he smell like to you?”  
  
“Corn dogs. Or the sewer. It kind of depends.”  
  
Logan’s eyebrows scrunch up. Most of his focus is centered on killing James on screen, over and over again. “What do I smell like to you?”  
  
“Road kill,” Kendall says, a little apologetically. But only a little. He’s too irritated to mean it. “By the way, James. Muffy’s here.”  
  
James is no longer sitting on the couch, playing video games. Kendall props his hands on his hips and looks up, towards the ceiling, where James is hanging upside down like an oversize bat. Kendall rolls his eyes. “If you’re that scared of her, maybe you should just stop going on dates every time she’s in town.”  
  
“But. When she’s in Sunnyvale, we get along great. We talk on the phone and text and she sends me little heart emoticons. _Hearts_ , Kendall.”  
  
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder?”  
  
James glares at him.  
  
Kendall sighs. “Sunnyvale is obviously far enough away that she can overcome her overwhelming impulse to kill you. Slayers are your mortal enemy, you know. They’re hardwired to hate you.”  
  
“You’re hardwired to hate me,” James counters.  
  
The apartment gets really, really quiet.  
  
Kendall tries to think of something to say to make it okay. But the fact that vampires and werewolves are mortal enemies never will be.  
  
In the safe haven of the swirly slide, Carlos grunts. Kendall realizes that Logan’s left the couch. Apparently the game is no fun without James, and he has fled up the swirly slide in search of better entertainment. “Logan? What are you doing?”  
  
“I’m teaching Carlos how to use contractions. With flashcards.”  
  
“Logan. There are zombies in the lobby.”  
  
“I know. They are making such a mess.”  
  
“And whose fault is that?”  
  
Meekly, Logan says, “It might be mine.”  
  
“Might be?” Kendall is about to launch into a very long speech about owning up like a responsible young adult. Then the door bursts open.  
  
Kendall reaches for the nearest weapon; a hockey stick.  
  
But it’s not a zombie. It’s just Mercedes Griffin.  
  
Equally as scary.  
  
“Alright, what’s going on here? Specifically, why is my boyfriend all…rotting?” Mercedes waves her hand in the air. Her nails are bright red.  
  
“Logan turned him into a zombie.”  
  
“Duh.” Mercedes wrinkles her nose. “There aren’t any other blue dead people running around this hotel. Obviously it’s Logan’s fault. But how?”  
  
Logan peeks his head out of the top of the swirly slide. He looks suitably nervous, seeing as Mercedes is a demoness and could probably evaporate him with a flick of her fingers. “I, um, bit him.”  
  
“Agh, _Logan_. I told you two not to get started without me.”  
  
“Whoa, whoa.” James raises both of his hands in the air. Since he’s still on the ceiling, this has the annoying effect of dangling his fingers in Kendall’s face. The Wolf wants to bite them. The Boy wants to suck them into his mouth, tongue soft around the digits and- “What?”  
  
“Yeah. What?” Kendall echoes a bit dully, because really, he kind of sees where this is going.  
  
Mercedes levels Kendall with a wicked smirk. “Don’t be jealous, ex-boyfriend. I’ve got a leash in my purse if you want to spend some time together.”  
  
“Um. That’s okay, Mercedes.”  
  
Mercedes shrugs. “If you say so. But you know what isn’t okay? The fact that my boyfriend is down in the lobby, biting other girls. Logan, what are you going to do to fix this?”  
  
“Fix it?” Logan squeaks. “We could, uh… _Kendall_?”  
  
Kendall holds up his hands. “Not my area of expertise, buddy.”  
  
“Right. I don’t care what you do. I’ve got a mani-pedi in twenty minutes. But I need my boyfriend to be at Daddy’s Halloween Feast by _eight_. Fix it!” Mercedes demands. Then she storms out of the apartment in a cloud of rage and sweet smelling perfume.  
  
“We. Um,” Logan worries at his lips with his teeth. “We could try the Hot Boy Band Machine.”  
  
Kendall perks up. “I thought you guys scrapped the Hot Boy Band Machine.”  
  
“Gustavo scrapped the machine. I made a mini version.” Logan sounds pleased with himself.  
  
“Why?” James drops to the floor, coming to stand beside Kendall. They’ve perfected the bro stance, the way of standing too close while still keeping at least a few inches of space between their bodies at all times. And if anyone notices the way James’s hips curve towards Kendall like he’s freaking magnetic, no one says a word.  
  
Well, except FrankenCarlos, who makes a disgruntled noise.  
  
Probably not about the way James and Kendall are standing.  
  
Kendall’s eyes narrow. He’s got this sneaking suspicion. “Logan. Have you been using the hot human boy machine to turn Carlos into a pageant girl?”  
  
“What? No. Of course not.”  
  
Carlos makes another noise.  
  
“Shut up Carlos.” Logan yells into the slide. He turns back to Kendall and James and says seriously, “He likes it.”  
  
This time the noise Carlos makes is something like agreement.  
  
James freaks. “Is there anyone at the Palmwoodsylvania you haven’t slept with?”  
  
Kendall gives James a stern look.  
  
“Besides me, geez,” James snaps.  
  
Logan rolls his eyes. “You have better things to worry about besides my sex life. Like oh hey, the zombie apocalypse.”  
  
“Your sex life started the zombie apocalypse, jerk. We’re going to get you a muzzle until you learn to keep your spit to yourself.”  
  
“It’s not my saliva. I’ve never had any problems with the, um,” Logan murmurs a word so low that even Kendall’s super sharp Wolf hearing can’t pick it up.  
  
“The what now?”  
  
“The kissing, and um. Stuff.”  
  
“This isn’t the first time you’ve played Mercedes and Guitar Dude’s little sex games, is it?” James gasps, scandalized. “Logan, you man-eater.”  
  
Kendall sighs. “What you need is like, a condom for your mouth.”  
  
James looks thoughtful. “They have those.”  
  
“I don’t want to know how you know that.”  
  
“Sex is an art.” James grins. Kendall’s caught between wanting to tell James to shut the fuck up and kissing that stupid smirk off of his lips.  
“I’m an artist. I know my medium.”  
  
“Yeah, I was serious. No explanation necessary.”  
  
“I hate to interrupt, but problem with the Hot Boy Band Machine?” Logan props his elbows on top of the swirly slide platform. “It’s only going to work for an hour, dude. I haven’t managed to tweak the specifications past that yet.”  
  
“Can’t you do it now?”  
  
“This is complex physics! It’s going to take me at least a day.”  
  
So yeah, okay. The Hot Singing Boy Band Machine is out.  
  
The door is thrown open yet again, and this time it’s James wielding the hockey stick. Except it’s not a zombie or a vampire slayer. It’s Katie.  
  
Also infinitely scarier.  
  
“Please explain why Guitar Dude just tried to bite my face off?” Katie demands, crossing her arms.  
  
“Oh. Uh. Logan’s a cannibal.”  
  
“I have had just about enough derision,” Logan says indignantly.  
  
“I don’t know what that means,” Kendall says, “But who started the zombie apocalypse?”  
  
Logan sighs and raises his hand.  
  
“And what have we learned?”  
  
“To keep my teeth to myself,” Logan mumbles.  
  
“I can’t believe you’re getting laid more often than I am,” James mutters.  
  
“James. You’re not helping anything. Do I need to go get Muffy?” Kendall elbows him.  
  
His little sister already has enough of a sex education teacher in HBO. She doesn’t need James to start throwing his weight around too.  
  
“Please don’t.”  
  
“Fine. We can’t just let zombies run around the Palmwoodsylvania eating people.”  
  
“There hasn’t been any eating. Just biting. It’s an entirely different kind of mastication,” Logan objects.  
  
“I still don’t know what you just said. But. My point stands. We need to go-“  
  
“Zombie hunting” Katie chirps. She hands Kendall a paintball gun that she got from…from somewhere.  
  
“First, you’re not going anywhere. Mom is going to kill me if you turn anything other than flesh colored.” Logan makes an offended noise, which FrankenCarlos seconds. “Second, there will be no hunting. We can fix this. Probably.”  
  
“Problem. I don’t want to go down there,” James announces.  
  
“The zombies aren’t going to hurt you.”  
  
“Who cares about the drool rags? Muffy has a sharp, pointy stick with my name on it. I like living.”  
  
“I’ll protect you from Muffy.”  
  
“How? What are you going to do? Bark at her?”  
  
“I’ll be your human shield, whatever.” Kendall groans. “Come on. We have to go fix this. Logan! Wait, where’s Logan?”  
  
FrankenCarlos makes a suspiciously enthusiastic noise from the swirly slide.  
  
“Logan? Don’t make me come up there. What are you doing?”  
  
Logan peeks his head out. “I don’t want to go down there.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Everyone’s going to be mad at me.”  
  
“So what? They should be! Now come down from there.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Logan. I will injure you,” Kendall says.  
  
“You will not.”  
  
“I will dismantle all your body parts. There’s a nice little gravesite back in Minnesota with your name on it,” Kendall says nastily. “The  
tombstone even says Hortense.”  
  
Logan doesn’t bother looking insulted. “See now, I know you don’t mean that. James told me you cried buckets when I died.”  
  
“James!” Kendall yells, mightily offended. It’s true, but he doesn’t like to think about that. The accident that killed Logan and Carlos is barely three years past. It wasn’t long ago that Kendall thought he was never going to see them again. If Dr. Rocquenstein hadn’t come along…  
  
To call him a dog…  
  
Constantly…  
  
Nah. It’s worth it to have Carlos and Logan at his side. Still. Kendall sighs. “Katie? Get ‘im.”  
  
Katie salutes.

 

\---

  
In the lobby, they bump into Camille.  
  
 _Bump into_ probably isn’t the right phrase. There are zombies everywhere, and Camille is defending her post behind the reception desk with well aimed kicks to the head. She’s wearing cargo pants and a very, very tight tank top.  
  
“Hey guys,” she says. “Did you know we’re being overrun by zombies?”  
  
“Logan, Mercedes, and Guitar Dude were going to have some kind of freaky threesome, but Logan started the zombie apocalypse instead.”  
Kendall explains.  
  
“Hey!” Logan yelps.  
  
“Well it’s _true_. Nice get up,” Kendall says appreciatively.  
  
James is possibly drooling. Someone might mistake him for a zombie and decide to hack his head off. Kendall decides to be helpful and claps his hand up under James’s jaw, snapping it shut.  
  
“Thanks,” Camille says. She kicks a zombie in the face. Kendall thinks it used to be the hot girl from 2B.  
  
He turns to Logan and says, “We should probably lock the doors.”  
  
“You want to lock us in here with flesh eating monsters?”  
  
“Well. No. But isn’t it better that they’re locked in here than wandering around out there? Where they really might start the apocalypse?”  
  
“Good point,” Logan agrees. “Let’s lock the doors.”  
  
Camille seems to have things under control. Kind of. Logan’s locking the doors, and James is dutifully seeing to the pool entryway.  
Kendall’s feeling pretty optimistic. They can make it through this. He’s already starting to formulate a plan when he hears a thud.  
  
“Got one,” Jett yells, arm around Logan. Who is squealing. Possibly that he can’t breathe. Which makes no sense, considering he’s dead. _Of course_ he can’t breathe.  
  
“Wait! That’s Logan! He’s a good zombie,” James calls across the slavering horde. Kendall is having trouble processing what’s going on.  
That seems to be happening a lot today.  
  
“Jett’s got a knife. Why does Jett have a knife?”  
  
“I called him.” James smiles, a bit weakly. He looks all guilty and pale. Maybe that’s because Logan is glaring at him and rubbing his neck.  
Or maybe because he doesn’t want to be associated with Jett. Which is really wise on his part.  
  
“Okay, but that doesn’t explain the knife- wait, you called him? Are you guys friends now?” Kendall demands.  
  
“Yes,” Jett says smugly.  
  
“No. But. We play basketball,” James explains.  
  
“You play basketball. With Jett. Who has a knife.”  
  
“He’s good at one on one.”  
  
Kendall’s jealousy rears its ugly head. “Better than me?”  
  
“No. Just. You get competitive. Sometimes.”  
  
Kendall opens his mouth to object, but hey. True. So he changes topics. “And the knife?”  
  
“I’m good with zombies.”  
  
“Not,” Logan says, outraged.  
  
“And that means?”  
  
“Jett played a zombie slayer in the New Town High Halloween special.”  
  
“You were good in that,” Camille says with a sweet smile. Then she focuses on Miss Collins, who isn’t looking too good. She smells like death.  
  
Kendall wrinkles his nose. The Boy wants to vomit. The Wolf wants to dismember her and roll around on her carcass.  
  
The Wolf isn’t really helping Kendall’s gag reflex right now.  
  
“Right. Professional experience, right there,” Kendall mutters darkly.  
  
“Jealous,” Logan whistles, still massaging his neck like Jett’s actually bruised him. Kendall thinks he should say something sympathetic, but he’s distracted by a Jennifer, who is lurching towards the desk. Jett does not look at all interested in slaying her, instead using his knife to pick nonexistent dirt from beneath his fingernails.  
  
Kendall clutches his hockey stick close. Even if he’s not on the menu, the things freak him out with all their moaning and groaning.  
  
Also, Jennifer looks like she wants to eat Camille. Who is distracted by round two with the girl from 2B. Kendall raises his hockey stick.  
  
“Wait, what are you going to do?” Logan asks.  
  
“I’m going to hit her in the head.”  
  
“What if it falls off? Two will just grow back in its place, like a hydra,” Logan hisses.  
  
“The person who started the zombie apocalypse does not get an opinion. You want her to eat your ex girlfriend?” Kendall doesn’t wait for an answer. He bashes Jennifer with his hockey stick, full force. Jennifer slumps to the ground.  
  
Camille turns at the noise. She’s already defeated her opponent, and she looks pretty pleased.  
  
And then she pulls a stake from the waistband of her pants and twirls it around, albeit a little clumsily.  
  
“What is that?” James actually squeaks. He’s clinging to Kendall’s shoulder, peeking out from the other side of his neck.  
  
Kendall doesn’t want James that close to his neck. With his fangs. With his leechy dead skin. The Wolf growls, and then Kendall is growling, and James does not seem to be paying attention to how close he is to getting his head snapped off.  
  
Logan is, though. He mutters, “Tone it down, Teen Wolf.”  
  
“Camille? What are you doing with _that_?” James asks, staring at the stake like it’s a rattle snake in her hand. Jett snickers.  
  
“I was thinking about auditioning for the Varsity Vampires reboot. They need a badass vampire slayer. I thought I’d get in some practical experience. Muffy’s training me.”  
  
“Lame,” Jett mutters under his breath. “Varsity Vampires is so last year.”  
  
James ignores him. “You know she wants to kill me, right?”  
  
“Oh.” Camille tilts her head to the side. Then she yells into the back room, “Do we have to kill James? He’s a nice vampire.”  
  
Apparently, Muffy is in the back room. And now they have her attention. She peeks her head out, around the door frame. She’s got a fist in Buddha Bob’s hair, and she seems to be doing a really good job at holding him back. She smiles at James, all happy and open and flirty.  
He smiles back. Then Muffy kicks Buddha Bob full on in the stomach, knocking him back. She twirls her stake, a murderous gleam entering her eye, and steps out into the open. “James.”  
  
Kendall decides he might need to intervene here. He steps forward. “Muffy. Muffy, no. Put the stake down- can’t you see we’re in the middle of a crisis, woman?”  
  
Casually, Muffy says, “Sorry. The vampire plague needs to be wiped out.”  
  
“But I’m a nice vampire,” James says.  
  
“No such thing. Vampires don’t have souls. Unless- have you been around any gypsies?”  
  
“No? Unless you count Madame Zanzibar.” James looks at Kendall. “Do we count her?”  
  
“The crazy psychic with the parrot of death? Hell no. Muffy, I thought you were sunbathing.”  
  
“It got crowded out there,” she responds, pointing towards the pool courtyard, where a group of the undead are piling themselves against the locked doors. “’Scuse me for a second.”  
  
Muffy takes out an approaching zombie. She’s fast. And she’s got a knife. The poor creature’s head goes rolling to the ground.  
  
Which is a problem.  
  
Kendall yelps. “Did you just decapitate Tyler’s mom? Muffy, we’re trying to reverse the curse. Not kill everyone.”  
  
“Oh.” Muffy frowns. “You killed Jennifer.”  
  
“She’s not dead.” Kendall toes Jennifer’s head, which aside from being attached to her body is indeed still in possession of something like life. It’s maybe a little flat, but the girl’s jaw keeps working open and closed, like she’s trying to say something. Probably about her hair.  
  
“Everyone…else…” Kendall glares at Tyler’s mom’s headless body “Needs to come out of today with their brains intact.”  
  
FrankenCarlos mumbles something like agreement. Or _braaaaains_. Kendall is not sure.  
  
“And how are we going to do that? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but they want to eat us.” Jett interjects, looking up from his cuticles.  
  
“They don’t want to eat us,” James points to himself, Logan, Kendall, and Carlos. Except that’s not true. A zombie that may or may not be the remains of Guitar Dude lunges straight for Carlos’s jugular. Logan yanks him out of the way just in time.  
  
Shoot.  
  
Carlos apparently smells like corn dogs today.  
  
Things are suddenly a lot more urgent. Kendall looks around and realizes that the only normals left in the lobby are Camille, Muffy, and Jett.  
And there are a lot of zombies. Like, a lot.  
  
It’s a bit crowded, and they’re all heading for the reception desk.  
  
It’s Kendall’s duty to protect the humans.  
  
Also, Carlos cannot be eaten. That would be really problematic. Kendall says, “Logan, talk to them.”  
  
“How, uh, exactly do I do that?”  
  
“I don’t know. They’re you’re species, not mine.”  
  
“Oh, and you can talk to wolves?”  
  
Kendall shrugs. “Sure. Kind of.”  
  
There’s a lot of snuggling and head butting involved, but when he’s in Wolf form he can usually get all of his points across. Of course, when  
he’s in Wolf form he usually doesn’t have much to say other than _run, eat_ , and _sleep_.  
  
“Do they speak English?” Logan asks.  
  
“Why wouldn’t they speak English? Do you become a zombie and suddenly learn French? Does your toxic saliva speak French, Logan?”  
  
Jett cocks an eyebrow, apparently very interested in the topic of Logan’s bodily fluids.  
  
Gross.  
  
“My saliva isn’t toxic.” Kendall pointedly narrows his eyes. Logan ducks his head. “They don’t seem to be saying anything other than nnnnrghhhhaghhhh.”  
  
“What’s that mean?”  
  
“I don’t know! It could be zombie-French for _I’m hungry_.”  
  
“It’s always about eating with you, isn’t it? We’ll get you some pizza later.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“Maybe a steak.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“Do you need it raw?”  
  
“ _Kendall_!” Logan yells in his bossiest voice.  
  
“What?”  
  
Logan points. Kendall sees _what_.  
  
The thing is, Oz is big. And he really wants to eat FrankenCarlos. Or all of them. Kendall thinks. Better not to find out. He looks at his hockey stick, and then back up at Oz. “I think the good plan here would be, um. Run!”  
  
The guys bolt out of the lobby, weaving their steps in case the big lug doesn’t have the best balance. Kendall allows himself five seconds of guilt for leaving the girls and Jett behind, but it doesn’t last.  
  
“Oh no you don’t,” Muffy shouts. “James!” She vaults over the reception desk, Camille and Jett at her heels. “James, come back here and let me kill you!”  
  
“Pass,” James calls back. Kendall rolls his eyes. Their death threats sound too much like flirting. The Wolf wants to vomit. The Boy wants to kick some ass. Instead he jabs the button for the elevator, pounding his finger into plastic over and over again. Before Camille, Muffy, and Jett can catch up, the contraption dings. The guys crowd inside.  
  
Logan is hyperventilating, a little.  
  
“Camille’s going to die, Camille’s going to die-“  
  
“She’s not going to die. She’s with Muffy. They’re both smart. They’ll be fine. And they’ll probably take care of Jett…”  
  
James tells Logan, “You know you dropped your arm back there.”  
  
“Rightie will be okay.”  
  
“What if the zombies trample it?”  
  
“Would they do that? They wouldn’t do that. Would they?” Logan frowns at the door, like he can see through the metal to the slow moving herd of zombies. He yells, “Just because you’re dead doesn’t mean there’s any reason to be rude!”  
  
The elevator groans in response.  
  
A minute later, the guys step out onto the second floor, and Kendall’s mind is whirring. He needs a plan here. And fast. “You two go back to the apartment,” he tells Carlos and Logan, because at the very least he doesn’t think the zombies have really figured out things like doors yet. “James, that’s the first place Muffy is going to look. You’re coming with me.”  
  
“Where?” James asks, suspicious.  
  
“I don’t know yet. Do you want to get slayed?”  
  
“Let me think… _No_.”

 

\---

  
James has a sudden change of heart when Kendall locks them in the supply closet on the third floor. “A closet. You want us to hide from the vampire slayer in a _closet_.”  
  
“Where do you suggest? The lobby’s a little bit occupied.”  
  
“They’re not going to eat us. Logan said so.”  
  
“Do you really want to test that theory? What if they run around and eat everyone in the hotel, and suddenly wet dog and dead things start to smell appetizing? They’re already into Carlos. Do you really want Jennifer teeth in your leg?”  
  
“Good point.”  
  
Thing is, James also had a good point about their hiding place. The closet is this tight, enclosed space. There’s nowhere to hide from the overpowering scent of James’s man spray, and it’s annoying that James doesn’t smell like much of anything to Kendall, except for an excess of Cuda. In the old days, he was sweat and something sweet, something piney. He was James. Now it’s like someone took his essence and wrapped it in a zip lock freezer bag, and Kendall can’t scent anything beneath that plastic. And in the closet, there’s nothing to shield Kendall from the flash of his teeth when he smiles nervously, or the predatory look in his eyes, or the faint touch of blood on James’s breath.  
  
“What if Muffy finds us anyway?”  
  
“Chill. Muffy doesn’t know her way around the Palmwoodsylvania.”  
  
“Camille does.”  
  
“Camille doesn’t actually want to kill you, James.”  
  
“I know that,” James says hastily.  
  
“So what’s the problem?”  
  
“The problem is that Camille gets really into her method acting, and when she’s acting all exuberant she might accidently stab me with a stake anyway.” He looks really panicked. Kendall laughs. He can’t help it.  
  
They sit in semi-comfortable silence until James crosses his arms over his knees. He shivers and says, “It’s kind of cold in here.”  
  
“Do you even get cold?”  
  
“Of course I get cold.” James retorts, his lips turning down.  
  
“It’s your fault we’re in here,” Kendall replies reasonably, because he can’t think of anything better to say.  
  
“You don’t think they’re actually going to eat Carlos, right?”  
  
“Not sure,” Kendall mutters. “He should be safe in the apartment for now. Where we’d be, if your psycho girlfriend wasn’t trying to kill you.”  
  
“She’s not psycho. She’s a workaholic. There’s a difference. Besides, no one asked you to save me.”  
  
Kendall levels James with the most sardonic expression in his arsenal. James slumps down against some metal shelving and says, “I appreciate that you’re not leaving me to be slain.”  
  
He only sounds a little resentful about it. Kendall sighs. “Like I would. I can’t lose you, dude. Not after-“ He doesn’t have to finish the sentence. Even with Logan and Carlos running around in front of them, starting apocalypses and eating corndogs, the day they lost them is still fresh in both of their memories. “What do you even see in Muffy, anyway? You know what your celebrity mashup name would be? Mames. It’s obviously an omen. A fitting omen, since she wants to _maim_ you.”  
  
“She’s, uh. Intense. I like focus in a girl,” James hums. “She’s great in-“  
  
“Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” The Wolf and the Boy both rear their heads, one thought flashing hot and angry through their mind; _mine_. “One of these days, you’re going to fall for a girl who doesn’t have a kink for violence.”  
  
“Hey! I have dated perfectly nice girls. Like Annie.”  
  
“Annie dumped you after a day.”  
  
“She did not dump me!” James yells, voice echoing across aluminum shelving, bouncing off plastic and thin sheetrock. Kendall’s lips press together in warning. More quietly, James continues, “We came to the mutual decision that Malibu’s really far when you don’t have a driver’s license.”  
  
Kendall rolls his eyes. Annie smelled like fish anyway. The Wolf kept wanting to lick her face and see if she tasted like sushi.  
  
“What about Solana?” James suggests.  
  
“You’re joking, right? Gustavo had to call the police for domestic violence like, three times. In three days.”  
  
“Svetlana?”  
  
“Kidnapped you.”  
  
“Aubrey Stewart?”  
  
“Her bodyguards tried to beat the shit out of you, James!”  
  
“You?”  
  
Kendall doesn’t have any response for that.  
  
“You’re right.” James flashes him some fang. “Violence is hot. Besides, Muffy’s nice. She doesn’t treat the whole mortal enemies thing like it’s a death sentence.”  
  
Kendall cocks an eyebrow and pantomimes stabbing.  
  
“For our relationship,” James corrects himself.  
  
“If you die, I’m pretty sure- wait.” His voice catches. “It’s a relationship now?”  
  
“ _Kendall_.”  
  
“James,” Kendall replies, even though there’s a knot the size of Montana forming in his throat. James looks away. And this. This is the thing he hates the most.  
  
Vampirism took James away from him; the old James, the one who smiled as easily as he breathed. Kendall-the-Boy still wants James; he wants him so much and so hard that it’s ridiculous, but he can’t have him. The Wolf hates James _exactly_ because he doesn’t breathe anymore; because he’s a leech with a silent heart and blood on his fangs. And it’s not just about being mortal enemies. It’s a territorial thing. The Wolf staked its own claim on James long before Kendall even knew what it was that he was feeling.  
  
The Wolf doesn’t like losing any more than the Boy does.  
  
Kendall’s maybe starting to freak out and he doesn’t know if it’s from the concept of James actually using the R word or his proximity or the scent of Clorox that permeates the closet. All he knows is he wants out.  
  
The Wolf doesn’t like being caged. It wants to rip the leech apart.  
  
The Boy doesn’t like being caged. He wants to rip James’s clothes off.  
  
“At least Muffy doesn’t hate me,” James announces to a mop, his eyes focused on the shaft of the wooden handle instead of Kendall.  
Kendall can’t find the words to reply. James is always leaving him speechless these days.  
  
Minutes pass, endless, stretching long and thin and awkward between them. There are footsteps, and the sound of wood echoing against doors as Muffy and Camille and, from the sound of it, Jett, bang their way down the hallway, calling James’s name.  
  
As their footsteps fade, James hums under his breath. It sounds like the theme to Varsity Basketball.  
  
“Can you stop?” Kendall growls.  
  
“It’s catchy.” James frowns. And then he launches into one of the many tunes from Dracula.  
  
“Did you have a vampire movie marathon last night or something?”  
  
“You’re really grumpy. I know it’s that time of the month, but you don’t have to be so mean.”  
  
James doesn’t know the half of it. Kendall can feel the change vibrating through his body. It would be so easy to go through with it, to become a full Wolf instead of the half man, half beast hybrid he usually prefers. The Wolf is small and fast and smart and it knows how to get away from bloodsucking leeches. But.  
  
It would hurt James.  
  
Kendall squeezes his eyes shut. Control. Control. Control.  
  
“Can we go? I don’t hear Camille and Muffy anymore,” James says.  
  
“They’ve probably moved to the next floor. We should wait a while. Let them check out the apartment before we head back. I mean, that’s where they’re going to expect you to hide.”  
  
“I can take care of myself, you know.”  
  
“I have to keep you all safe.” Kendall tells the door, because it’s so much easier than meeting James’s eyes.  
  
“Kendall. I’m not going to die.”  
  
“You’re already-“ Kendall bites off the word, because he can’t call James _dead_ out loud. “You’re just so cold. You always feel so cold, and it’s like-“  
  
Kendall shivers. It’s hard to be accusatory when James is looking at him that way, kind and weary. “Let’s not do this right now.”  
  
“Do what?”  
  
“That thing where you allude to how much you hate me being a vampire, and I get mad because I _don’t_ hate it, and you get mad at yourself for not being there when I changed, and then we break out the snarky comments and pretend it doesn’t matter. Let’s skip that.” James says, and he sounds so sad and tired that even the Wolf feels a little bit guilty. If Kendall had a tail at the moment, it would be tucked between his legs.  
  
“Okay,” Kendall says quietly. Then: “I don’t hate you, dude. Just…” Kendall wiggles his index fingers in front of his mouth, hoping it’s a clear sign for fangs.  
  
“I know, but those are a part of me.” James shrugs. “It’s the same difference.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“No buts. I like the blood, Kendall. It’s not some demon living inside of me who enjoys it. It’s me. And I like being fast and strong and sparkly.” James grins faintly. “The only thing about being a vampire that I can’t stand is- _you_.”  
  
Kendall gets that, kind of. He’s had his problems with the Wolf in the back of his mind, but for all its hairy little faults, the thing has been living inside of him since he was little. When he was sad, the Wolf curled around him, protecting his thoughts and his heart. When he was mad, the Wolf taught him to hunt; to scheme. When he was happy, the Wolf taught him to run. Kendall doesn’t actually know what it’s like to exist without a hungry animal inside of him. The one time he’s felt its absence, after the Hot Boy Band machine, he felt a little bit lost.  
  
He doesn’t know how everyone else does it. It’s a little weird to think that James- and Logan- might be the only people who understand that.  
  
And maybe Carlos, but Carlos has never been really clear about what it is he hungers for. Other than corndogs.  
  
“I think.” Kendall takes a deep breath. He’s good at honesty, but not so much at openness. The two are different things, and the latter involves showing off the parts of himself that are vulnerable. Kendall doesn’t like to be exposed the same way he doesn’t like to feel closed in. He’s all about the happy medium. “I think it’s easier for you than it is for me.”  
  
“You think? Maybe I just have better self control,” James retorts. Kendall wants to argue, but that might actually be true. It’s funny, because it’s James; silly, impulsive, ridiculous James, who can’t walk into a salon without cleaning out every product on the shelves. He has all kinds of addictions when it comes to like, man spray and v-neck shirts, but he’s got more restraint when it comes to other things. Emotional things. Like anger. Or love.  
  
James just…distances himself better, where Kendall always feels too close, too strong, too raw. And tonight?  
  
It’s not a full moon, but it’s only a day away. Kendall can feel the call. It’s an electric current in his body. James _definitely_ has more self control than Kendall on full moon nights.  
  
The Wolf owns Kendall completely. There is already a glow in his eyes, the reflection of the moon telling him to turn.  
  
“I wish I was better at it,” Kendall says wistfully. “I wish being near you wasn’t so hard.”  
  
Something flashes in James’s eyes, and Kendall only has a second to think that he’s said the wrong thing. James crosses the closet so fast that Kendall can barely track it.  
  
“Maybe if we-“ James says, voice strangled. Kendall presses back against the door.  
  
“If we what?” Kendall asks, voice breaking. He grits his teeth, digging his nails into the wooden door.  
  
He wants to strip off of his clothes and let James fuck him against the supply closet floor.  
  
He wants to sink his teeth into James’s chest until he reaches his silent, unmoving heart.  
  
James reaches out, hands resting feather light against Kendall’s hips, and it’s like there is this thread between them, drawing their lips close. And they follow it, swaying back and forth drunkenly, resisting and giving in.  
  
“You have dog breath.” James mumbles.  
  
“You have clammy hands,” Kendall retorts.  
  
He doesn’t though, not even close. James brushes his lips soft against Kendall’s cheek. Kendall crosses his arms between them and tries not to feel so naked.  
  
James takes a shaky, unnecessary breath. And then he kisses Kendall.  
  
What they share is dangerous; blood and claws and possessive jealousy. The only thing that keeps Kendall from ripping James’s throat out right there is his tenuous grasp on the memory of a boy, of the way James has always made his head pound and his jeans tight and his heart love too much. Kendall holds on, just barely; but that doesn’t mean he’s not on the edge of losing control. Maybe James senses that, because the kiss doesn’t last. His hands move up until he’s got Kendall by the shoulders and then James spins him around so that  
Kendall’s face is pressed into the wood of the door. He lifts Kendall’s shirt up and over his head, and Kendall is suddenly certain. Their first time together was tender; shared breath and swelling desire. This will be different; James is going to fuck him until he can’t see straight.  
  
James’s fingers press bruises into Kendall’s biceps, his chest a long, hard line against Kendall’s back. Kendall tries to grab the door knob, but James’s hands pull back at his arms, smoothing down until he’s got Kendall’s wrists crossed behind him.  
  
“Where do you think you’re going? You don’t get to run away this time,” James growls into the nape of Kendall’s neck.  
  
“I thought,” Kendall groans, testing the strength of James’s grip. James is holding him with one arm, now, and he’s still ridiculously strong.  
“You were a nice vampire now?”  
  
“Not for you,” James murmurs. Kendall tries to make a break for it, the Wolf telling him to fight. James doesn’t let go. He’s got a steely grip, and a sick sense of humor.  
  
“Maybe Mercedes is right about that leash.” James hisses into Kendall’s hair, “Get on your knees.”  
  
Kendall does, sinking down until his jeans touch bare concrete. There’s this moment when Kendall’s on his knees and James hasn’t deigned to sink down yet, where the angle of Kendall’s arms twisted up behind his back is almost painful. That moment stretches to the point where Kendall knows that James is hurting him on purpose, where the sockets of his arms are screaming out in pain, and then-  
James sinks to the floor.  
  
James unbuttons Kendall’s pants from behind with his free hand, and it’s like all that Kendall can see of him is a flash of pale skin. He watches as the denim of his jeans falls away, pushed down to his thighs. James’s pale fingers wrap around the shaft of his cock and _oh_. His limbs feel all shaky, like his blood has turned molten in his veins, like everything inside of him is going to bubble over. There is heat low in his stomach. There is thunder clouding his mind and moonlight glowing under his skin.  
  
It’s been a year to the day since the last time they managed to go all the way, back when the Hot Boy Band Machine actually worked, and  
Logan wasn’t holding out on them. They’ve been this far before. Usually, they get to the good part, and Kendall lets the Wolf take over.  
  
He bites and he claws his way out.  
  
He runs.  
  
But right now, there’s nowhere to run to. He is trapped, trapped, trapped. James has his hands behind his back, and no matter how much Kendall struggles he can’t get away. The human part of him doesn’t want to. The Wolf growls. The Boy does too. The noise spills from Kendall’s throat, low and throaty and laced with lust.  
  
James pauses, just for a beat. “If you don’t want this, tell me no. Say no, Kendall.”  
  
Kendall presses his lips together. Inside of his head, he hears howling, the rush of blood in his head and the monster living inside of him trying to protest. But at the core of him, Kendall does not want to say no. He wants to say yesyesyes.  
  
He is too proud to do it, so he keeps his lips closed, keeps the simultaneous rush of yesnoyesno inside of him, and watches the wall.  
  
James takes it as the affirmative he needs. “Do me a favor.” He murmurs against Kendall’s spine. “Don’t turn into a dog during this.”  
  
James presses a saliva-slick finger inside of him. Even with the spit it hurts, a kind of raw, sharp pain. Kendall squirms. James just pushes in another finger. Fucking sadist.  
  
This is the part they never get past, the part where Kendall feels his claws start to come out. The part where he runs. The Wolf is desperate.  
It wants out. And Kendall just wants this; James with his hands all over him. It doesn’t matter how rough he is. There is moonlight behind his eyes, but he tamps it down, his control tenuous. Every time James curves his fingers inside of him, it nearly slips away.  
  
The pain is dulling, replaced by pleasure that his body responds to almost involuntarily, like an itch that he needs scratched, helplessly.  
The Wolf is pissed. Kendall isn’t supposed to just bend over and take it like a bitch in heat. He’s the alpha male here. He’s the one in charge.  
  
Except, apparently, he isn’t. Fight or flee or stay, his mind screams, and Kendall chooses _stay._ The choice isn’t Darwinian of him, nor is the way he’s pushing back on James’s fingers like they’re the only thing he’s ever wanted from his life.  
  
James’s hands really aren’t clammy. They are wet with the viscosity of his own saliva and the messy sheen of Kendall’s precum. They are hot and tight and pulling at the core of him; bruising his wrists, bruising his insides.  
  
When Kendall strains his head back, he can just barely glimpse James. Weirdly he looks sweaty and nervous, wan with yearning. Kendall decides it must be his imagination, because James barely ever sweats, and he does not yearn. Not for Kendall on his knees in the middle of a supply closet.  
  
At first James doesn’t make a noise, which is unnerving because Kendall’s grunting and panting and basically providing a soundtrack for every little thing that James does to him. Meanwhile James doesn’t even have the decency to pretend to breathe. Kendall supposes it’s hard to get a vampire to forget they’re a vampire, even in the midst of all this debauchery. James’s fingers stop working Kendall open from the inside out. He withdraws, and it’s a hollow feeling, unnerving with the addition of the silence. Kendall is so hot and high, like a burning star, but behind him there is only the soft rustle of clothes as James undoes the front of his pants.  
  
All of that changes the second James pushes inside of him, a guttural groan filling the air. Kendall can barely concentrate on it, too busy ripping one of his arms from James’s grip, breaking free against his thumb just in time to smother a startled yelp that comes out sounding more like a bark. Kendall bites the sound into the flesh of his own arm, his vision wavering between dull, human sight and sharper Wolf vision, making every grain in the door clear.  
  
He always kind of figured that sex with James would be like sex with a marble statue. Even though all the make out sessions they’d had as monsters had been satisfactorily hot, Kendall had been paying more attention the Wolf’s desperate instincts to flee than what James felt like under his fingertips. Now he knows different. Now Kendall is burning up from the inside out, between James and the feeling of being owned completely; the press of James’s palm flat against Kendall’s spine and the call of the moon in his veins, in his blood, stretching him until he feels too thin, too hot, too everything all at once.  
  
James licks a stripe across the nape of his neck, his teeth scraping and bumping over bone. He keeps the rhythm steady, paces out each thrust no matter how desperately Kendall tries to get him to speed up, and he never, ever lets up, not even to pause for breath. It’s nothing at all like the first time, when they fumbled all over each other, trying to figure out the mechanics of what and where and how, desperate to consummate years of yearning. This is so different; moonlight and blood, claws and fangs. James is turning his insides to deadly quicksilver, and Kendall is dying, slowly, blissfully. That has to be it. James is a fuckmachine of a man, relentless, but Kendall is apparently into that; every time he withdraws he feels slick and hollow and empty and grinds back to meet the impending course of his dick, desperate for the pressure of him sliding against Kendall and the heat of the friction they build between them.  
  
And James is so noisy now; he moans appreciatively whenever Kendall does something he likes, and he talks, babbles incoherently. He mumbles words into Kendall’s skin. They’re low, low enough that a human wouldn’t be able to make them out, but Kendall’s Wolf ears pick them up; things like _infuriating_ and _irresistible_. Kendall doesn’t know who is saying what; the Boy or the leech. He knows James- the human part of James- is attracted to him; and Kendall cherishes that knowledge. But he never even thought that the bloodsucker in him might feel that way too.  
  
James fists his free hand in Kendall’s hair, exposing his neck. He bites down, but he doesn’t break flesh, standing on the edge of control as he fucks inside of him. Kendall’s so close, he’s teetering on the edge of it like a star, a supernova building inside of his stomach. And he realizes, somewhere in the back of his mind, that James’s grip on his left wrist has slipped; it has transformed into the loose lace of their fingers. Kendall groans and thrusts back, trying to meet James halfway, trying to get him closer, deeper. There is this tight heat in his stomach, building up the shaft of his dick and he wants to be touched, he begs to be touched, but James’s hand is still tangled in Kendall’s hair, his mouth still a wet press against Kendall’s neck. Kendall has to wrap his own hand around himself, leaning most of his weight into James. James takes it, hand moving to wrap around the front of Kendall’s neck, light but strong. His body is a long line of heat against Kendall’s back.  
  
James thrusts up, their thighs slapping together, and bites down, teeth breaking skin. Kendall comes like that, shuddering with the head of James’s cock hot against his prostate. It doesn’t take James long after, or maybe it does; Kendall’s riding out the longest fucking orgasm he’s had in a while, and it’s only when his body stops trembling that he realizes James is slumped against him, completely sated.  
  
The two of them slump forward against the door, James’s softening dick still half inside of Kendall. Kendall, for his part, is shocked at how comfortable he feels right in that moment. There’s no animosity left in his chest or in his head. When James withdraws, he does it gingerly, and then he extricates their interlaced fingers. Kendall misses the feel of it, just for a moment before James slings an arm around Kendall’s neck, pulling him in close. The Wolf doesn’t bother trying to struggle; it _wants_ to snuggle up next to James. It whispers words in Kendall’s head, things that Kendall isn’t one hundred percent ready to do or feel. He reddens.  
  
“What?” James asks, like the color of Kendall’s cheek is lighting up the room.  
  
“Nothing,” he says quickly. But then, curiously, he asks, “What was it like?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“The, um. The bite?” Kendall reaches up and strokes a finger soft along James’s neck, the palest of scars visible; twin puncture holes that make him cringe every time he sees them. Now he's got a bite of his own, a dull throb against his skin. The hurt doesn't bother him; it feels more like a badge of honor than something painful.  
  
“It wasn’t bad,” James says softly, his eyes going all distant. It’s how Kendall can tell he’s lying.  
  
“I should have been there.”  
  
James warns, “Kendall-“  
  
“No, I should have. I’m supposed to protect you.”  
  
“I don’t need your protection.” James’s grip on his shoulder turns steely. “Not anymore.”  
  
The thought troubles Kendall, and maybe James sees that. Softly, he tells him, “We can protect each other now.”

 

\---

  
Kendall hasn’t felt as comfortable as he does during the walk back to 2J in a long time. It’s like something has clicked right in his head; he can hold James’s hand in the middle of the hallway and the Wolf just makes this contented sound. It’s like all the monster was waiting for was Kendall, giving in. He twirls the hockey stick in his free hand and walks into the apartment with a smile tugging on his lips. Its short lived. No one’s in the living room, so James makes a beeline for his door, throwing Kendall a devilish smirk.  
  
Except the door opens on its own.  
  
Or not. Camille’s standing there. Camille looks kind of…rumpled.  
  
“Is your shirt on backwards?” Is Kendall’s first question, for reasons he can’t really explain. He knows there’s more important things begging to be asked, but. Well.  
  
Camille looks down. “It’s supposed to look like that.”  
  
“Is that a hickey on your neck?” James’s eyes bug out.  
  
“Bug bite,” she explains.  
  
“That is a huge fucking bug.”  
  
Right then, Muffy stumbles up behind Camille, and she looks a little worse than rumbled. Her shirt is torn, and her eyes are a little wild.  
  
Kendall’s first thought is that a zombie escaped into James’s bedroom. Then he realizes how red her lips are, and how her pants are not done up right at all.  
  
Kendall stares. And stares. And stares.  
  
 _Hot_ , he decides.  
  
“Did you guys just- in my bed?” James asks, outraged. Kendall snorts. He can almost hear the unsaid _without me_.  
  
Normally, this would be the time when the Wolf would rear up in a kind of jealous rage. Instead, it gives a contented snuffle. It wants Kendall to nuzzle his head into James. Apparently leech isn’t so bad when the Wolf can smell the scent of Kendall’s sweat still drying on James’s skin.  
  
Camille frowns. “Kendall’s door was locked.”  
  
“Oh, for the love of- where’s Logan and Carlos?”  
  
“Probably in Kendall’s room.” And then Camille closes the door in their face. They hear the click of the lock.  
  
“Okay then.” Kendall says. James starts up a tirade, but Kendall mostly ignores it as they make their way down the hall. He knows James doesn’t mean it; his hand is still interlocked with Kendall’s.  
  
Fortunately, no one is banging in Kendall’s room. What’s going on there is much more bizarre.  
  
“What are you doing?” Kendall asks, confused by what he’s seeing.  
  
Jett and Carlos are involved in a very intense game of Monopoly. And Logan? Logan looks up from the papers arranged in front of him. “Homework.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Education is important.”  
  
“Miss Collins is already zombified. I doubt she’s going to force you to hand in your report on Hamlet.”  
  
“Well, I didn’t have anything better to do.” Logan crosses his arms and gives Kendall and James a look like he knows _exactly_ what they’ve been up to. “So. Um. How do we reverse this?”  
  
Kendall frowns. He’s got ideas, certainly. He’s like, the king of ideas. Just. He needs to think of them, and what with all the drooly faced man eating monsters running around, and the fantastic sex, his brain’s not exactly in prime thinking mode. So he goes with his best bet.  
“Mom! Where’s mom?”  
  
“She just got home. She’s in her room, I think.”  
  
“Mom!” Kendall yells.  
  
Mrs. Knight comes running. “What, what? What’s wrong?”  
  
She’s in the midst of taking off her coat, and Kendall realizes something. “Mom! How did you get into the hotel?”  
  
Mrs. Knight’s forehead furrows. “Buddha bob opened the door for me.”  
  
“But Buddha bob’s a zombie.”  
  
“Oh. He did look green.” His mom makes a face. “Why is Buddha Bob a zombie?”  
  
“Logan’s been going around biting people,” James explains.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“Logan. Honey. What did your mother tell you about biting people?”  
  
“That it’s not polite.” Logan sulks. Kendall remembers that lecture. They were four, and Logan insisted on nibbling on Carlos’s fingers every time he did something stupid. Which was always. Of course, they hadn’t been monsters back then. Kendall’s the only one who was born with it. Logan whines, “I only bit Guitar Dude, though.”  
  
“Guitar Dude? Really? Logan, he hasn’t bathed in a week.”  
  
“I like that.”  
  
Mrs. Knight’s eyes bug out. She says, “Moving along. There’s got to be a spell in the book somewhere…”  
  
The group of them move into the living room. Mrs. Knight finds the book beneath a can of soda. “Katie! I thought I told you to stop using the book as a coaster.”  
  
Katie yells something from down the hall. Mrs. Knight clicks her tongue and picks up the book and her reading glasses. She starts poring over the pages, but Kendall realizes they haven’t explained quite everything yet. “Hey, uh, mom?”  
  
“Yes, honey?” His mother looks at him over her reading glasses, eyes bright. She loves this witchy stuff.  
  
“Uh. Do you think you could fix Jennifer’s head? And um, Tyler’s mom?”  
  
“What happened to Jennifer’s head and Mrs. Duncan?”  
  
“Um. I might have, um. Hit Jennifer with this.” Kendall twirls the hockey stick in his hands.  
  
“Kendall! You don’t hit people with hockey sticks!”  
  
“She was trying to eat Camille.”  
  
Mrs. Knight rubs her temples. “And what about Tyler’s mom?”  
  
“Um. Muffy might have decapitated her.” Mrs. Knight’s eyes widen.  
  
“I might need another spell for that. It happened, uh…post-zombification?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Oh good,” she breathes. “I wouldn’t be able to bring her back if she wasn’t infected when it happened.”  
  
And Kendall knows that; his mom has witchy rules. He spent a good year of his life and longer resenting her for them. He still kind of does. Maybe if his mom had agreed to bring Logan and Carlos back after the crash, this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he wouldn’t have the imprint of fangs in his shoulder and a constant ache in his heart for the better part of the past two years.  
  
“I need a zombie.” She looks at Kendall. “Go on. Fetch.” Slowly, Logan raises a hand. “You won’t work, sweetie. I need one who wasn’t already dead.”  
  
“Right. Logan, James, you can come with me to the lobby. We’ll need supplies,” Kendall decides.  
  
“Sure. Jett, look after Carlos,” James orders.  
  
“Okay. Hey, what’s-“  
  
“Do not touch the miniature Hot Boy Band Machine,” Logan instructs, eyes narrowing. Jett does not seem even a little bit impressed by the  
growl that’s edged into his voice. Carlos laughs.  
  
James makes a face. “Maybe I should, um. Stay here and watch Jett.”  
  
“Good idea.”  
  
In the elevator, Kendall tells Logan, “I can’t believe you didn’t let us use the machine.”  
  
“Wouldn’t it have made things worse? An hour at a time…Kendall, it’s not nearly enough,” Logan says wistfully. “I saw you guys holding hands. At least this way you’ve worked it out on your own. You don’t need the machine.”  
  
Kendall suddenly feels bad about all the safe-zombie-sex jokes. Logan doesn’t exactly have a lot of options when it comes to love these days.  
  
“I, uh. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, um.” He’s bad at apologies. But Logan smiles, like he knows what Kendall’s talking about. “Do you ever wish you were a witch? Then you’d be able to fix all of this on your own.”  
  
Kendall thinks about it. He’s never been completely onboard with Wolfing out. But, objectively speaking, his hairy little problem causes a regular disturbance in his life maybe three days a month, tops.  
  
Katie accidentally blows something up every few minutes or so.  
  
“Nah. Don’t worry, though. Mom’s going to take care of everything. She’s good at that.”  
  
“Kendall?”  
  
“Yeah?” The elevator dings.  
  
“I’m sorry for starting the apocalypse.”  
  
“Don’t be. You keep life interesting,” Kendall grins, knocking their shoulders together as the doors slide open. “Now go get me a zombie.”  
  
It’s actually pretty easy. Logan walks up to the first undead person he finds, taps the zombie on the shoulder and asks, “Hey, does this smell like chloroform to you?”  
  
He holds up a drenched rag over the thing’s nose. The zombie slumps into his arms.  
  
Logan looks towards Kendall. “I’m going to take that as a yes.”  
  
From there, they drag the zombie, who just so happens to be a douchey new actor from apartment 4G up to Kendall’s mom. All it takes is two hours of bringing her coffee and a simple spell to reverse the curse. Color floods back into the zombie’s skin, a spark of life lights up his eyes, and then they have to kick the guy out of the apartment because he’s such a douchebag. As far as spells go, it’s easy-peasy.  
Kicking Muffy and Camille out of James’s room takes longer.  
  
Convincing Muffy that Kendall will legitimately tear out her throat if she lays a finger on James takes most of the night.  
  
But right before bed, the lobby is full of humans and laughter, and James still has a stake-free heart. All in all, the day has been wildly successful. They guys stretch out on the couch, watching Zombieland, which seems apropos at the time. Carlos and Logan have already exhausted their energy, and they’ve sagged against each other, snoring lightly. They have the right idea.  
  
“Happy Halloween,” Kendall tells James sleepily, curling into his arms.  
  
“Happy Halloween,” James replies, kissing the top of Kendall’s head. The two of them fall asleep to the sound of Jesse Eisenberg instructing them on how to survive the zombie apocalypse, secure in the knowledge that the only zombie within ten miles is Logan.  
  
Everyone thinks that’s the end of it until the following morning, when an undead boy bites one of the hosts of Good Day LA on live television while they’re all eating breakfast.  
  
Kendall watches, only mildly concerned. “Mom, when Buddha bob let you in yesterday, did anyone else, um. Get out?”  
  
“I’ll get the book,” Mrs. Knight says heavily.  
  
“I’m gonna go invest in machetes,” Katie decides.    
  
“I’m gonna-“ Logan pauses when everyone glares at him “–cease to have a sex life.”  
  
FrankenCarlos makes a sad noise.  
  
“Gross,” Katie says.  
  
James just squeezes Kendall’s ass on his way to grab some OJ. Kendall, Wolf-Boy, Boy-and-Wolf, sighs contentedly. “Let’s break out the machetes _after_ breakfast. Who wants pancakes?”

 


End file.
